


the start of something new

by SmittyJaws



Series: R2J AU [3]
Category: Led Zeppelin, Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Male Character, Light Angst, Multi, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: Roger pines, angst happens, realizations are made, and it's the beginning of something for our chaotic trio.
Series: R2J AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757326
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in my R2J AU, which is Roger Taylor x Robert Plant x Jay Marin (my ace!OFC).
> 
> Finally crossposting this from Tumblr! This was originally written for my Advent fic calendar in December in four parts, but I'm condensing it to two because I think it reads better that way.
> 
> A warning to pay attention to the tags on this fic; it's not graphic, but there's implied usage of roofies, and attempted assault on a main character. If this is something that will bother you, please don’t read this.

Something’s not right.

It was meant to be a fun night out with Jay and Robert, possibly hook up with someone (though Roger hadn’t planned on it, he wouldn’t rule it out), and generally just enjoy a nice evening. They were celebrating the four month mark of their cohabitation bet — only two more months and Blanche will have to pay up to all three of them. It was supposed to be relaxed; a good time.

Right now, Roger is neither relaxed nor having a good time. Not long after arriving, Robert had gone off chatting up some girl, and soon after that, Jay had seen a friend from uni and decided to go say hi, leaving Roger on his own. (They hadn’t agreed to be tied together all evening, but there’s a bit of a sting at being abandoned so quickly.)

While he was in the middle of absently browsing Instagram and pining his lot in life over his unreturned affections (as is his wont these days), a drink had been brought to him. “Paid for by the gentleman at the bar,” said the waiter in explanation when Roger just looked at it in confusion.

Looking over at the bar had shown him a decently muscular, broad-shouldered man looking his way; the sort who Roger wouldn’t necessarily have thought twice about bringing home before. (Now, he’s preoccupied by another set of broad shoulders. Who’d have thought.)

Roger’s no stranger to having drinks bought for him, and while he’d had no real interest in the man, he’d figured that maybe a night of debauchery was what he needed. A drink and a shag, and be on his way.

So he’d raised the glass in acknowledgment of the man, taking a drink… and attempting not to make a face at the taste after. God, what was it with potential hookups and assuming that he wanted all the sweet girly drinks? He doesn’t mind a decent sangria now and then, but overall, it’s not his thing. He’d sighed internally, glancing mournfully at the drink. Don’t want to seem rude, after all.

He’d somehow made his way through the drink before even catching a glimpse of Jay and Robert again… and that’s where everything starts to go fuzzy.

He frowns at the empty glass in front of him before it’s taken away. He can’t have drunk his drink that fast, can he? There’s no way the alcohol content in that drink is high enough to have him already knocked for a loop, even with the beer he’d had previously. He holds his liquor better than that, despite what people assume.

And yet… the room is spinning slightly, and Roger is dizzy. How strange. _Where are Robert and Jay?_

He starts slightly at a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see the man from the bar giving him a concerned look. “You alright, mate? You don’t look so good.”

“Nah, m’fine,” Roger denies, grimacing as he shakes his head and makes the room spin even more. “Jus’ need to have some water, is all.”

“Or some fresh air?” the man suggests. “Maybe stepping outside will do you some good.”

That makes sense. It’s a sensible idea. Roger nods. “Lemme just… just text m’friends t’let them know. Case they wonder.” He reaches for his pocket to grab his phone.

The man shakes his head. “We won’t be more than a couple of minutes. They’ll be fine.”

“…‘Kay,” Roger agrees hesitantly as he pushes himself up from his seat, but something doesn’t quite feel right anymore.

Scratch that, something hasn’t felt quite right since he had that drink, come to think of it. Something is wrong here, and a feeling of foreboding is settling in his gut.

“W-wait,” he stammers, stopping in his tracks as the man tries to lead him outside. “I really should tell them where I’ve gone—”

“It’ll be fine, Blondie,” the man repeats, more insistently, before rounding on Roger, pinning him to the wall in a dark corner of the bar. “Been waiting to get you alone all night. Don’t want them interrupting us.”

Even in his slow and muddled state of mind right now, that phrasing stands out starkly to Roger and his eyes widen. This is not good. “N-no. Don’t want this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the man scoffs, running a hand over Roger’s cheek in a grotesque imitation of a loving caress. “With that outfit and this face… you’re desperate for it, admit it.”

“Not desp’rate. D’want you.” Roger shakes his head, trying to back away, but there’s nowhere to turn; the man is taller, more muscular, and Roger is cornered. Even if his reactions weren’t so sluggish right now (and he’s starting to suspect it wasn’t just alcohol in his drink), he’d have a difficult time getting away.

And the man doesn’t stop, ignoring his pleas as he runs his hands over Roger’s arms, his face, his hips. Roger is begging now, and nothing is working.

“P-please stop.” Roger flinches as he feels the bigger man’s hands travel up his sides, squeezing where he doesn’t want to be squeezed, touching where he doesn’t want to be touched. “I said no—”

The room is still spinning, increasingly worse than before, and Roger has almost given up hope, almost resigned to the fact that no one is going to stop this man from doing what he wants to him. Then a fist comes out of nowhere, crashing into the man’s face.

The man goes down, and Roger’s eyes slowly travel in the direction the punch came from to find Robert, who looks absolutely furious, shaking a bloodied fist as Jay rushes forward to comfort Roger.

“Oh God. Roger. Rog. You alright?” She sounds frantic, and Roger wants to reassure her, to rest in the relief that he’s been saved, but the words aren’t coming and all he can do is slump against the wall. Distantly, he hears her say something to Robert about a hospital, but both his hearing and his vision have taken on tunnel-like qualities at the moment, and his focus is out the window.

And yet, when he feels himself being carefully led away, this time he knows it’s to safety and he doesn’t resist.

——

Awareness comes to him in bits and pieces for the rest of the evening.

He vaguely recalls being taken out to a car and dragged into an A&E waiting room; the sounds of Jay and Robert debating over what some of his personal information might be is a meaningless buzz in his ears as he clings to one of their arms.

At some point, he starts to spill secrets to a couple of strangers nearby; curse him for being a chatty drunk. Such secrets include him secretly drinking some of the Communion wine as a choirboy, stealing a pair of maracas he’s quite proud of, his love (and internal conflict over said love) for his two roommates, the fact that he rounds up and says he’s 5’11 when really he’s closer to 5’10… the list goes on.

How he doesn’t end up getting himself booted out of the A&E is beyond him.

But Jay and Robert are there the whole time, never losing contact with him or leaving him alone, talking to whatever doctor is assigned to look him over and asking the questions Roger can’t, keeping an eye out to make sure he doesn’t stumble getting back into the car to go home, and somehow getting him to drink some water and go to bed.

(The one rational braincell Roger still has functioning tells him he ought to make sure he thanks them tomorrow; the fact that they’re looking after him while he’s in such a state is something that makes him love them all the more.)

Roger doesn’t know what he’ll remember in the morning (if he’ll remember any of this, honestly), but if one thing stands out, it’s that when he was at his lowest and most terrified of that stranger, he’d been saved, and they’d made sure he’d felt safe and supported for the remainder of the night.

He even remembers Robert volunteering to stay in Roger’s room for the night (they’ve crashed in each other’s rooms before, but Roger definitely feels more reassured knowing that he won’t be left alone), and that means a lot to him.

——

When Roger wakes up the next morning, he’s got a raging headache and he’s alone in the room. For a minute, he wonders if he just imagined Robert staying the night; if his voice softly reassuring him that _he wasn’t going anywhere, don’t worry_ is just a figment of his imagination.

Then he realizes… he doesn’t remember a lot about last night at all. He remembers going out, he remembers being left alone when Robert and Jay had found other people to talk to, he remembers drinking… and then nothing. Or rather, not _nothing_ , but a great big blur of jumbled up images that he can’t make sense of, and the more he tries to think about it, the more it makes his head hurt.

He groans quietly, running a hand over his face. How much did he drink last night? He usually tries to limit himself; being drunk is fun, but being blackout drunk is a bitch of a time later on.

Glancing over at the nightstand reveals a glass of water, but no painkillers, and Roger grimaces. Well, at least Drunk Roger (or Robert, who knows anymore) left him some water. He’ll just have to get up and go to the medicine cabinet to find some paracetamol.

Sitting up leaves him a bit woozy and lightheaded, and Roger closes his eyes, breathing deeply as he tries to regain his bearings. There’s the sound of movement nearby, and when he cracks his eyes open again, it’s to see Robert and Jay cautiously entering his room, concerned looks on their faces.

“How’re you feeling?” Robert sits in the desk chair that’s positioned beside Roger’s bed, Jay standing nearby.

“Like shit,” Roger admits, rubbing at his forehead and reaching for the glass of water. “Any chance one of you could get me a couple of paracetamol?”

They exchange glances (and Roger wonders what that’s all about) before turning back to him. “Rog… how much do you remember about last night?” Jay’s voice is hesitant, as though Roger’s done something regrettable. Or maybe Jay has. _Oh God_ , did he attempt to make a move on Jay? He’s probably made her feel uncomfortable now.

“Uh. Not a lot.” He cringes; he really hopes he didn’t behave too badly. He’s preparing to start apologizing for whatever it is he might have done in his drunken stupidity when he looks down to see his wrists… with distinctly hand-shaped bruises on them.

_An unrequested drink. A stranger. Being led away. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this!_

Roger’s breathing speeds up. The images still don’t make a lot of sense, but there’s a definite feeling of unease rising where there wasn’t before. He feels his hands start to tremble, and Robert carefully reaches out to take the glass of water away before he can spill it. “What— what happened?”

Another exchanged glance, before Robert speaks up this time. “…the doctor said we’re supposed to let you remember on your own. So we don’t create false memories by accident.”

“I’m hungover, not concussed,” Roger argues, rolling his eyes and wincing when that just makes his head hurt again. Note to self: sarcastic responses need to be tempered while he’s dehydrated. “I’ll remember eventually, and if not, it’s not like it’s something life-changing, is it?”

Jay and Robert just give each other that same _Look_ again, and Roger’s getting tired of the secrecy. “And what the hell is this? You keep looking at each other like I killed someone!”

Jay sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You didn’t kill someone. I promise you that.”

“Then _what_?”

“First, tell us what you _do_ remember, and we’ll go from there,” Robert interjects, clearly not wanting things to escalate.

“Uh. We were out.” Roger’s brow furrows. “You both went off. Someone got me a drink…” His eyes widen. “There was this man. He’s the one who bought the drink.”

“And?” Robert prompts.

“And… I don’t remember.” His breathing speeds up as he glances at his wrists again, and the bruises decorating them. “What happened? What did I do?”

Roger’s not normally one to get overly anxious, but right now, this is incredibly distressing. Something has happened to him, and he has no memory of it at all; nothing except a growing feeling of distress in the back of his mind, making his shoulders tense and his headache worse.

“You didn’t _do_ anything,” Robert sighs and runs a hand through his hair agitatedly. “When we went back to the table and couldn’t find you, we went looking. We found you… just in time, I think.”

“Just in time?” That kind of cryptic statement isn’t helping Roger’s stress levels. “In time for _what_?”

This time it’s Jay who speaks, fidgeting slightly. “You were with a guy. Maybe the one who got you the drink?” she suggests, and there’s a growing look of discomfort on her face that has nothing to do with _‘I’m ace and get awkward around excessive PDA’._ “He… he was making moves, and you looked like you didn’t want it. We heard you asking him to stop…”

Her voice trails off, gaze dropping to where Robert’s hands are sitting in his lap, and Roger notices that his knuckles are bruised. That’s odd; Robert will never throw a punch if he can help it, too much of a peace-loving hippie that way. But from what Jay is implying, it sounds as though Robert made an exception.

He _does_ vaguely remember a fist flying, knocking someone away from him, but the memory is hazy at best. He swallows convulsively. “So… what you’re saying is, I was…”

“No!” They both chorus vehemently, startling Roger.

“No, like I said… I think we got there just in time,” Robert’s voice is quiet. “But we took you to the hospital in case. We didn’t know if he’d given you anything. You were really out of it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Roger’s not too sure how to feel now. He’s unsettled by the fact that this happened without his consent (and his knowledge), but he’s fine, right? No real harm done if they got there in time? “So what did they say?”

“The doctor confirmed you’d been slipped some kind of drug, which is why we can’t give you any painkillers.” Jay looks apologetic. “But he said you’d be alright once it burned out of your system. Just like a regular hangover, but it might take a little longer.”

“Well, it could be worse, I suppose.” Roger shrugs, taking the glass of water back to start slowly drinking again. Then a thought occurs to him. “I, uh, didn’t say anything colossally stupid, did I? Offend anyone?”

There’s that silent exchange of looks again, and Roger wonders how bad it can possibly be. Robert turns back and his expression is unreadable. “No, you didn’t say anything stupid.”

Roger breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s good.”

“…you just confessed that you were in love with both of us when we were in the A&E waiting room.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy conclusion to make up for the angst in the first chapter! :D

The news is like a bucket of cold water to the face. Roger knew it was too good to be true; that he wouldn’t have done _something_ to make a fool of himself while under the influence. Apparently he’s spilled his deep dark secret, and now they’re going to think he’s some kind of weird deviant. “…oh.”

Roger wants to crawl into a hole and hide forever. They’re going to hate him, they’re going to be uncomfortable… of all the ways he’d imagined he might have worked up the courage to tell them how he felt, ‘drunkenly confessing in the hospital and not remembering it at all’ wasn’t one of them.

“So was it true?” Jay asks quietly.

“Huh?” Wow, he’s eloquent. That said, he was kind of expecting a more aggressive response.

“I said, was it true?” Jay repeats, slightly louder this time. “That you’re in love with us.”

“…yes.” No sense lying about it at this point; they’ll know and he’ll only be making things worse. “For a couple of months now. I know it’s odd. I wish I knew why I felt like this; why I couldn’t just be normal and fall in love with one person.” His face flushes, and Roger’s sure his cheeks are probably sporting a lovely shade of red now. “…sorry you had to find out like this.”

He looks down at the now-empty glass in his hands, fiddling with it as though this is going to fix anything. Maybe if he doesn’t look up, he’ll never have to see the looks of discomfort and judgement and they can pretend this never happened. Live out the remaining two months of the bet and _definitely_ go their separate ways, because now Roger won’t be able to look them in the eyes ever again.

“Didn’t realize you were poly.” Robert sounds… less upset than Roger thought he’d be, but Roger still refuses to look up just yet. He’s waiting for the shoe to drop. “Figured you were a serial monogamist.”

“Didn’t realize I was either,” Roger mumbles, continuing to fiddle with the glass. And isn’t that the bitch of it all, that these things always seem to creep up when someone least expects them? It’s messy.

“S’not a bad thing,” Robert continues, and Roger looks up enough to see him shrugging nonchalantly. “Not like you can help it, anyway. You love who you love.”

“…but it’s _you_. That— that doesn’t bother you?” Roger looks up further. “It doesn’t make you feel awkward?”

“I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting it,” Robert admits, before shrugging again and leaning forward in his seat. “But I mean, I thought you were drop-dead gorgeous the moment I met you. Had a bit of a crush for a while, but I assumed you weren’t interested, so I left it be. Funny how things work out in the end, though.”

He winks, and Roger’s stunned. He’s sure if he were a cartoon, his jaw would be on the floor right now. Is Robert… _flirting_ with him? Of all things, he’s responding not only positively, but he’s reciprocating?

This can’t be real. There’s no _way_. And yet, poking the bruises on his wrists feels very real (he refuses to pinch himself or ask one of the others), so he can’t be dreaming.

He must have severely frozen up, though, because Robert’s face falls slightly at his lack of response, the grin on his face fading into awkward concern. “Uh. Sorry. Too strong?”

“N-no.” He shakes his head as carefully as he dares with his hangover still pounding. “Just… didn’t expect that either.” He laughs slightly. “But really? You… me?”

God, he has _no_ way with words today. At least he has the hangover as an excuse.

Robert just nods, almost shyly. “Yeah. I was a bit jealous at first, honestly — you were gorgeous and charming and decidedly less clumsy than I am, and I thought I’d never have a chance with someone like you. But we were friends, and I figured if that was the best I could get, then I’d take it.”

“Huh.” There he goes again, completely ruining the image Robert has of him as a charming and desirable prospective partner. Then again, they’ve all seen each other in less-than-ideal circumstances over the last four months, so maybe that doesn’t matter anymore.

“But if you’re interested, then I wouldn’t mind trying,” Robert continues. “See if it might work? I hadn’t considered a third person before, but why not? You’re both good company, so why not see what happens?” He shrugs, and Roger feels his face flush.

This is too easy. It can’t be this easy. There’s no looks of judgement, no declarations of _‘I like you **but** ’_… where’s the catch?

Then he realizes Jay’s been quiet for a while. When he turns to her, her face is unnaturally pale and she looks upset. Roger can feel his heart seizing in his chest — this is it; she’s going to reject him (reject both of them, really, but he’s the one who has more to lose). Then she speaks, and her voice is no more than a whisper. “You— you want to date _me_? Both of you?”

She sounds disbelieving, and Roger doesn’t entirely blame her — if he’d been told out of nowhere that two of his friends (that he was currently living with) were attracted to him and wanted to three-way date, he’d have thought it was fake. So he nods, glancing over at Robert to confirm they’re both on the same page here. “Yeah. Do you not want to?”

He tries not to sound like he’s pressuring her, because that’s the last thing he wants. If she goes along with this, he wants it to be because she wants to, not because she’ll feel guilty if she doesn’t. That said, he really hopes she wants this the way he does, or at least is open to trying the way Robert does.

“I… I don’t know.” Jay looks conflicted now, and drops her gaze to her hands, fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

Roger suspects he knows why she hasn’t thought about it, but still wants to confirm it. “Is it because of your parents?”

“…maybe.” Her voice is even quieter. “You know how they think. How religious they are. My mum loses her shit at anyone who’s openly not straight on the telly; went into full denial when I told her I was ace. Everything that’s not strictly ‘one man/one woman’ relationships weren’t talked about, growing up; not unless it was to point out how sinful they were. So the two of you…” she looks up slightly, making a half-hearted gesture with her hands. “It’s… I dunno, really.”

…this is what Roger was worried about. It’s not Jay’s fault she’s grown up with a lot of internalized issues; after all, she’s making her own decisions now and has always supported his and Robert’s dating choices regardless, but with this line of thinking that her parents have drummed into her head, apparently letting someone be happy with their choice of partners doesn’t extend to her.

If she even _does_ want to date him and Robert. The jury’s still out on that one, but Roger has a feeling that she’s denying herself because it pushes her further away from what her parents have taught her is respectable, rather than not being interested. That said, regardless of her reasoning, if she truly doesn’t want this, he can’t force her. “You don’t know that you want it, or you don’t know how to go about a relationship like that? Because I’m pretty sure that’s new for all of us.”

“Both?” She winces slightly. “No, that came out wrong. I mean, I don’t mind the idea of it, and I like you both, but… it’s hard to wrap my head around. My mum already doesn’t really care for the fact that I spend so much time around you both anyway, so what’ll she do if we’re dating?” she frets. “And besides, you really can’t see the fact that I’m ace and you both aren’t being a problem? You really think this isn’t just doomed to fail?”

Jay does have a point about her mother; they’re on thin ice already as friends, let alone as romantic prospects. But they’re adults; let Mrs. Marin think what she wants.

As for the other part… Robert speaks up before he can. “You make it sound as though all anyone could possibly ever want you for is sex. As though that’s all we’ll want.” He sounds slightly disappointed. “You really don’t trust us, after all this time?”

Jay goes red as she shakes her head in protest. “That’s not it. It’s just… what if you get tired of me? What if you want more? I’ve had enough passive-aggressive jokes made by other people I’ve dated about how I wouldn’t just fuck them, and I don’t want that to happen with you guys too.” She wraps her arms around herself like she’s trying to ward off a chill, and it hurts Roger to watch.

Robert speaks up again, voice quieter now. “I don’t suppose promising that wouldn’t happen would make a real difference?” At Jay’s hesitant shake of the head in response, he sighs. “Worth a shot. I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel like that’s an inevitability.”

“I know.”

Jay’s fidgeting again, and Roger knows he said he didn’t want to coerce her, but he’s hungover, giving little to no shits, and can’t help but try one last-ditch attempt. “What if we did a trial period?” he asks cautiously. Jay looks at him with eyebrows raised and he clarifies: “We only have two more months of the bet, right, so why not try things out til then? If it goes badly, then we go our own ways when we move out. If it goes well, then we can decide from there?”

“And if things go really badly before then?” Jay asks, but the fidgeting has stopped.

“Then I’ll move out and pay your bet winnings to you.” He’s not sure where he’ll move to if he has to leave early, but he doesn’t want to lose a friendship over this, regardless of how much he’d like it to be more.

Jay frowns slightly at that, but nods after a moment of hesitation. “A-alright, I suppose. You’re willing to try putting up with my hangups over this… it’s only fair that I try too. I’m in.”

Well, it’s not the heartfelt _‘oh my God I’m in love with you **too** ’_ declaration Roger was hoping for, but neither is it an outright rejection either, so he considers that a win.

Now he just has two more months to prove this can work.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr!


End file.
